After watching The Pianist I got really inspired to write! I hope that the translations are right, but if they aren't please correct me on them :) I tried to make it historically correct however a few things are twisted for plot so forgive me U_U

Also, a shoutout to the Poland RPer Feliks_Lukasiewics on Instagram, you're super fabu thank you for roleplaying with me :) (also i'm sorry that i'm really awkward . I hope this isnt too like creepy or anything ^_^; )

Disclaimer: Do i look like I own Hetalia? No? Yeah that's what I thought. If i did Poliet would absolutely be forever canon

Warsaw was certainly not a good place to be a young aspiring tailor like Feliks. The streets were dirty, crammed with the hungry desperate people who's quick and flighty movement was to get to their destination without trouble, dodging the corroding dead bodies that have not been picked up since their untimely deaths. His job as a tailor has so far kept him from trouble however he knew better then to hope. Hope make failure that much more painful. Honestly Feliks knew he should have left Poland while he had been given the chance, even if it meant using the last of his zloty* to do so. His pay has been limited since the Germans had made the zloty limit* making business scarce, if any at all, leaving Feliks with days where he didn't make enough to even buy a decent dinner. The lifestyle and existence was dreary and grey in what Feliks knew was once a big beautiful vibrant city.

The chime rang and Feliks' head snapped up in surprise. It had been so long since he had business and he was hungry, If he could get the work, he could sleep easy with a full stomach tonight. "Witamy (Welcome [Polish])" He called out, flipping his shoulder-length blonde hair out of his eyes as he stood up to face the shop's guest. The man looked young, with medium brown hair pulled into a neat ponytail and blue green eyes that seemed, to Feliks' dismay, show peeked interest as he walked around his shop. He looked wealthy or at least well to do, his clothes, polished and clean. His eyes cast over the other man, noticing that he had no armband. His clothes were that of military standards and Feliks froze as he noted the badge, all his composure to keep smiling despite his want to frown. Russian soldier's scarcely since come to Warsaw, although when they did it always meant trouble.

A brief silence fell between them before the man mumbled something, surprisingly in a language he understood. "Man reikia remonto (I need a repair)" after pausing, the man quickly added. "Ar kalbate lietuviskai? As nexinau daug lenku. (Do you speak Lithuanian? I do not know much polish [Lithuanian]) " His words are almost sheepish as he cleared his throat, attempting again but in Feliks' native language. "Nie jestem stad (I'm not here [Polish])" his pronunciation was strange and hard to translate from his strange foreign accent. After a moment of piecing it together he got the gist of what the man was trying to say. "Matau esate ne is cia. (I can see you are from not here [Lithuanian]) " Feliks answered in reply. He knew better then to speak back to a Russian soldier but the language barrier provided an ease for small conversation that would otherwise be impossible. The soldier looked young, not much older then him and didn't seem as disciplined yet. But this man, like the other soldiers, were not to be trusted. "Jus kalbate lietuviskai? Bet jus rusu, taip?" (You speak Lithuanian? But you are Russian, yes?) " He attempted to make his tone sound sincere even if his words were daring. Something that, if it were another officer, he could have been shot for. Maybe he still would. The officer didn't seem to notice however, pausing only for a moment before he shook his head hesitantly.

"Ne, as is Lietuvos. As raisu darba Rusijoje. (No, I am Lithuanian. I found work in Russia. [Lithuanian]) " Feliks frowned at this. So Russia was gathering soldiers from other countries now too.

"Suprantu ( I see [Lithuanian]) " Feliks dared not to say more on the subject. The topic itself was personal, which was not a thing he wanted to share with one of Russia's soldiers, Lithuanian or no. "Reiskiu Jums yra kas nors as galiu jums padeti? (Sir, is there anything I can help you with? [Lithuanian]) " He felt unnerved by the soldier's presence and to be honest was hoping to keep it short. He needed the money but he didn't want to risk being shot at either.

"Man reikia kazka fiksuoto (i need something fixed [Lithuanian]) " He replied, also in obvious discomfort. He reached down into the briefcase at his side and pulled out a blouse, made of fine silky material that Feliks never had the chance to ever work with.

He knew better then to decline, for both his own safety and the money he desperately needed, however the thought entered his mind without question. The soldier seemed to see the hesitation. He turned around and looked around and for a moment Feliks thought for sure he was alerting the other soldiers. For not answering quickly enough? The soldier turned back again and Feliks noted the empathetic look on his face with distaste. He needed no pity. He opened his mouth however he was interrupted by his voice, this time low and husky, words quick. "Ar kalbate angliskai? (Can you speak English? [Lithuanian]) " the question took him off guard and for a moment he was at a loss on how to answer. Finally after another minute he gave a muted slow nod, even if his English was hardly fluent. The brown haired man seemed pleased by this answer and he smiled slightly as he suddenly pushed the jacket forward into Feliks' arms. "I can hand fix but you need, yes?" Was he really to believe that the man was giving him business for his safety? A mix of disgust made him cringe. He didn't need this man's sympathy. Although he knew that was a lie, whatever could give him money for food was what was going to keep him alive. "I give you 200 zloty?" Feliks missed most of what he had said however the money amount made him glance at the man in surprise. 200 zloty was far more then all of his monthly earnings, all for one jacket? The Lithuanian seemed to notice the look on his face and gave a surprisingly soft smile. "Its okay. English not common." He held out the jacket again. "Prosze? (Please [Polish])" Feliks hesitantly took the jacket in this hands, surprised and in wonder at how soft the material was. It was a fine ivory color that seemed delicate in his fingers, it was a fabric much to expensive for his business. He nodded as the man turned around to leave. He was almost at the door when Feliks remembered something. "Vardas Pikapas? [name for your order?]" The brown haired man turned around and smiled, which was surprisingly gentle for the likes of an officer.

"Toris" he replied, a smile ghosted on his face. He gave Feliks one last glance before he turned on the heel and without a word, left. Feliks watched the door where the man had been a moment ago, before shaking his head. No, he would not be fooled, This man was definitely not to be trusted.

The week was long and frustratingly slow. With very little business coming into the shop, Feliks had more time to think about the interesting job he had been offered the day before. It was a very simple fix, a small tear on the seam that was hardly worth how much zloty he was offered. Not that he would refuse the money of course, and the fact that very little survived defying a Russian soldier's request. The man, who now Feliks knew as Toris (he hadn't supplied a surname so a more 'appropriate' name, as decreed by the German's could not be recited) had given him over 3 months salary for a simple task even a young girl could complete. And what further confused him, Toris had not given him a due date for it to be done. The material was lavish, a luxurious piece of material that many poles would never even get to touch, and he had left it with him with only the promise of return in the money he would receive. The polish man sighed, putting down his current project, a long sleeve shirt with small designs woven intricately into its fabric. The person show it was, would no way be able to afford it, however the cold winter was coming and they had long done him favors enough to warrant a shirt to keep warm. Feliks stood up and moved from his desk to the front window were he watched the people scurrying past. The world moved the same way every single day without change. Grey morning with passing people, some wearing bands with stars of david's, some not. His hand ghosted upwards to his bare jacketed shoulder. "Jak okrutny" he muttered. Feliks turned in surprise, having not heard the bell ring. The Russian officer, Toris stood at the door, the look on his face surprisingly hesitant. For a moment he almost looked timid, but he reasoned that no soldier could be timid. Especially a Russian one. Feliks' hand dropped from his shoulder and for a moment a fleeting look flashed across the others' face however it was gone before he was able to identify it. " Ar tai blogas laikas jums? (Is this a bad time for you?) [Lithuanian] " Feliks silently shook his head, warily watching the other.

"Nie." He answered flashing the Lithuanian man a grin. "Turiu savo marskinius! (I have your shirt [Lithuanian]) "

"Ne, kad. As atejau cia kazkas (im not here for the shirt [Lithuanian])" Feliks froze, still at the window. "Did he hear right? Does he know?" His throat seemed to close off and his mouth grew dry as he tried to think of something to reply. Anything.

"Tak? (Yes? [Polish]) " The lithuanian took too hesitant strides forward, his legs making it possible for him to reach Feliks within a few strides. He was never gifted with height. He opened his mouth, struggling for a moment on what he was trying to say.

"Polska jest piekna (Poland is beautiful [Polish]) " The words were loud in the quiet of the shop and Feliks swerved his head to look up at the Lithuanian man next to him. He was looking out to the street just as Feliks had done himself not even moments ago. His head panned against the windows view, suddenly wishing he could just pull the curtain over. He didn't know what he was expecting but a Russian officer were monsters. Of course they would love this. He looked away.

"Trzeba bylo widziec ten kraj przed. (You should have seen it before [Polish])" he muttered. Next to him Feliks could hear uncomfortable shuffling. Turning his head his green eyes met a confused pair of green blue eyes.

"Turetumete maciau salies iki (You should have seen it before [Lithuanian]) " He translated, this time in Toris' native language. He didnt know why he bothered, all of the Russian soldiers were the same. He was risking getting shot for talking back, all because this man had deep sympathetic eyes he had never seen on anyone.

"Pries? (Before? [Lithuanian)" Feliks paused. Was he daring him to continue? To speak what was taboo? Feliks closed his mouth and his gaze turned back to the window again. Seeing the hesitation, Toris' quiet voice whispered.

"I wont tell" A simple english phrase that even Feliks knew. Did he dare trust his word? Sighing he moved from the window, pulling the curtain closed.

"Karas skauda sali (The war has hurt the country [Lithuanian]) " He waited for a reply, to be shot for something. But nothing came and Feliks looked up in surprise to see Toris standing there just as he had been, his dark Russian military uniform black in the dimmed light from the curtain. Electricity was a rare thing in these times, saved for times of emergency. Toris took a step forward although he stopped when he noticed how uncomfortable the other had become. For a moment he looked confused before he whispered something, hardly audible in the near dark.

"Kas? (What? [Lithuanian]) " Feliks snapped haughtily, drowning under the gaze of the other. He hated peoples stares. Toris looked alarmed at Feliks' outburst and quickly looked away as if a silent apology. Feliks opened his mouth to shoot some sort of retort but stopped himself before doing so. His mouth and sassy attitude was always a common issue since childhood, causing a lot of problems between him and his superiors. It made working for others difficult and during the war, it was one day sure to get him shot. The thought hit Feliks and he squirmed, the realization that this officer had the ability to kill him right here and now if he saw fit. He controlled whether Feliks lived or died, and he hated that. He noticed Toris' wavering gaze peek up at him with kind curious eyes and Feliks had to remind himself that the man was a Russian soldier. He couldn't have kind eyes.

"Jus paziurekite bijo (you look scared [Lithuanian]) " Toris whispered, his tone sad. Feliks flinched and looked at the man infront of him. Was he testing him? To come in here and say all these things for something like that? Poland's fear flipped into irritation and he berated himself for letting this man get so under his skin.

"As nebijau! (I'm not afraid [Lithuanian]" He huffed indignantly in Lithuanian. "I am Poland!" He pointed to himself, trying to sound as proud and sure as he could as he switched to his broken english. The Lithuanian cracked a small smile and Feliks glared at him. "what?!" He gasped. "not funny" Lithuanian smile softened and Feliks' continued to glare although it seemed to dwindle.

"As ne jums pakenkti Lenkija (I will not hurt you Poland [Lithuanian])" he spoke gently in Lithuanian. His voice seemed sad and it took a moment for Poland to think over the words before a part of the sentence caught his eye.

"Kodel vadinate mane, kad? (Why do you call me that? [Lithuanian]) "

"You said it yourself. You are Poland" he replied quietly in English. Feliks frowned, trying to piece together the words. After a moment, the Lithuanian continued. "Jus turite ismokti anglu kalba, mes galime kalbeti saugiai (You should learn the English language so we can talk safely [Lithuanian]) " Feliks huffed, obviously not pleased that Toris was judging his English in a country that never spoke English in the first place. Hypocritical. His eyes flickered up to meet the eyes of Toris, who's eyes were dead serious. The Lithuanian wasn't kidding about what he said. Feliks frowned deeper and he raised an eyebrow at the other.

"Saugiai? (Safely? [Lithuanian]) " He asked skeptically. Toris eyes flickered to the window before returning to his. He nodded slowly and Feliks could feel his already perked eyebrow raising higher.

"Why?" He demanded daring in English, trying to redeem his so called 'lack of language'. Talking back was a bad habit to carry out with Russian soldiers but Feliks had already done so many times already and he assumed that if Toris wanted to shoot him he would already have. Toris didn't seem to be bothered by Feliks' demands other then the small sigh that escaped his lips, eyes flickering to and fro from the window. Was he really that afraid someone would hear?

"English isn't practiced here so nobody will hear." Toris responded slowly. as if trying to make it clear to him. Feliks rolled his eyes although he was grateful for how slow he spoke. Translating from what he knew from his mother, he got as far as the word practice before Lithuania cut in. "Taigi niekas ngali isgirsti mus (So no one can hear us [Lithuanian]) " he repeated simply, this time in Lithuanian. Feliks watched the Lithuanian man with curiosity and the two simply watched another with curious eyes.

A bell tolled in the distance, breaking the silence and piercing what seemed to have almost been a meaningful moment between the two, causing both to physically flinch. Feliks hadn't realized how much time had passed but the bells toll, signified the end of the day for him. He wasn't sure what else it was for, except that for him it meant closing time. Apparently it meant something to the other as the Lithuanian's eyes stopped to meet Feliks', a clear apologetic look on his face.

Turiu palikti (I have to leave [Lithuanian])" Feliks frowned, trying to hide the disappointment on his face. He was curious and afraid of Toris, interest peeked by how seemingly human he seemed. Can Russian soldiers be that?

"taip (yes [Lithuanian])" He responded eyes breaking Toris' to glance at the back of shop befpre returning his eyes to him. "ką apie marškinius (what about the shirt [Lithuanian])" Toris gave a small smile in which Feliks, surprisingly returned.

"blogai gauti tai kitą kartą. (I'll get it next time [Lithuanian])" His eyes closed and hesitantly he turned on his heel, walking to the doorway hand hesitating at the door knob. He then turned back around to face Feliks once more.

"um ačiū... (um thank you[Lithuanian]...)" the Lithuanian's words died off and he paused, as if awaiting something, watching Feliks with a look of peeked interest. It took him a moment but he realized with dread that he was being asked for his name. Did he dare give it to this stranger? And a soldier at that?

"Feliks"he choked out "Feliks Łukasiewicz" the blonde took in a breathe, praying the soldier wouldn't catch the anxiety in his tone. He snapped his mouth shut and bit his bottom lip, hoping it would stop his bad habit of word vomit from leaking out. The habit usually came under stress or nervousness and got him in trouble more then once. It wasn't something he wanted to repeat here especially in the presence of the man that could easily kill him or worse. Luckily the moment passed and the Lithuanian smiled easing the tension between them., guiltily making Feliks think of how nice his smile was when he wasn't frowning. He spitefully shook the thought away.

"Gerai tada Feliks. Blogai see you kitą kartą tada. (Well then Feliks. I'll see you next time then [Lithuanian])" The man, Toris replied. Feliks nodded silently unsure how else to respond.

"uh taip. Kitą kartą (uh yeah, next time [Lithuanian])" he answered hollowly. With that the bell of the shop rang as Toris' tall figure left, leaving Feliks standing in the center, a small smile fading from his face. He didnt like how empty he felt without the Lithuanian there. His eyes cast to the curtained window and his hand absently rose up, reaching under his jacket to the piece of fabric underneath. He was playing a dangerous game with this soldier. Soon Toris would know and that day, he would be gone. Angerly he gripped the material and yanked as hard as he could, the ripping nose loud and accusatory in the quiet shop. With a grunt the material ripped off his arm and Feliks held a fist of fabric in his hand. On it was a star of david.

[*] zloty is currency in Poland. 1 zloty is worth $.32 US dollars

[*] In 1939, the Germans made a limit of how much zloty each polish jewish family could hold. The limit was 2000 zloty which is equivalent to $642.51 US dollars]